Throw in the occasional Roman candle!

Oh hell yeah, I forgot about those

My cousin and I would borrow shotgun shells from my dad and then take them in the woods and shoot them with our BB guns to make them go off.

Obviously, the government needs to institute some regulations to prevent these types of activities and protect us from ourselves.

Prank phone calls. Back in the 80's you couldn't be caught. Caller ID ruined that.

Drank Boone’s Farm

Cald tipping

Bottle rocket and Roman candle wars. Then I was about 10 and showing off for the neighbors grandaughter grabbed a rope swing and climbed up in the treehouse and proceeded to swing out the door. Would have been great if my side and underarm hadn't scraped the door on the way out. Wasn't a pretty site. LoL

We’d make homemade go-carts out of scrap lumber and wagon axles and race them down this very steep mountain. I can’t tell you the number of crashes that I have seen that should have landed us in the hospital or worse.

Corn stalk rootball fights. Pull the stalk and swing the rootball at your cousin - someone would be leaving with a bruises. These events normally led to an actual fight.

Bottle rocket wars, pulling each other through the pasture on a car hood tied to a 4 wheeler, once we tore up the car hood we switched to garbage can lids, shooting 12 gauge shells with my pellet gun, i would hold the gun straight up and put the shell on top of the barrel and pull the trigger...... It's a wonder I,m not blind from that ...... Playing in the hay barn with round bales stacked 4-5 high on end, if you ever made it to the floor it wasn't easy getting back out...

Not too many decent lakes in west Texas. So when we did get a decent rain, my cousins and I would grab a farm truck and water ski the bar ditches. Falling was not pleasant as it was at best two feet of water.

Old metal tapered table legs, 20ga shotgun shells, pair of vice grips, a hammer and a nail. One would hold the leg which a 20ga shell would fit perfect in and one would hold the nail with the vice grips on the primer and one would hit the nail. It was one heck of a noise. We are all lucky we still have our hands.

4 acres of a field and barn - burned to the ground. Wants me

Pulling a kite by hand as my brother shot it with a bow and arra. He missed, I still have the scar.

A couple of us crapped in an old purse that we found and put it in the middle of Georgia Mtn Rd and then hid in the pine thicket real close to it. I don't remember how many cars we got but we had to haul ass deeper into the thicket when one old man heard us laughing

Cut cornstalk dirt grenades......we only lost one eye....

Using a hydro slide on hills in the pasture when it snowed. Haul ass until you hit a cow pattie

I think the scar is still slightly visible on my back from the time I ducked a roman candle fireball and it went down the back of my neck between my t-shirt and jacket.

I think I was 12 at the time when I was seeing just how high I could jump my little Yamaha 100 Enduro and the right footpeg broke off upon landing. Right foot went under the rear tire and it jerked /slammed me off into the red dirt. I had at least a rounded tablespoon full of red dirt in my mouth and nose and they were both one big ole bloody mess. I got stitches and a couple of trips to the dentist over that one.

A bottle of Smartoff Vodka convinced me that I could whup 4 good ole boys one night. The vodka was wrong. I got my jaws wired together for a few weeks that time. Everyone was a smartass when I drank that stuff, same with tequila. For the record though, I haven't so much as tasted a beer or a sip of wine in over 20 years.

Launched a 3rd or a 4th of a lit stick of dynamite into the air with a wrist rocket several times. We had a crazy scramble and ringing ears from it one time.

Before I was old enough to legally drive,

We had battles with dirt clods, BB/pellet guns, chestnut burrs, rocks, bean poles (actually creek cane cut at an angle so it would stick in the ground better), bottle rockets and roman candles

We jousted on bicycles (grabbing the other guys handlebars), and ponies (no weapons other than your hands trying to knock the other guy off). Lots of scrapes and bruises.

Dropped the clutch on one of my buddies dads new john deere to do wheelies. That was forty two years ago and I'd still be afraid to tell his daddy.(Thank you God for watching over us.)

Shot the same buddies daddy's stud horse in the nuts with a red rider to watch him buck. He don't need to know about that either.

I used a golf ball and concrete steps at 10 paces to hone my skills at flies and skinners.

Shot arras and threw lawn darts straight up.

It was always fun to drag a garbage can behind a truck at about 50mph then let it go into a tree or mail box

My brother is 4 years and 10 months older than me. So I was always the guinea pig when it came to stuff.

We had this tree house and I remember it being really high. One day my brother, who was very crafty, made a homemade parachute. Of course me being the adventurous person that I am agreed to be the test pilot. I held the chute with one hand and the rest strapped to my body and jumped off like a moron. Straight down I went as the parachute immediately ripped off of the chords. I broke my leg that day, had to go to the hospital. Dad was pissed at both of us. I just remember my mom being pissed at my brother.

We were latch key kids because both our parents worked. So we got into all kinds of stuff. We had this old toy bazooka that used compressed air to make a loud boom. Well it had been broken at some point. It was raining outside and we were bored. Poking around the basement we found a bunch of pack of firecrackers left over from the 4th. We also found some smoke bombs. After setting off some smoke bombs, we got bored with that and then got the idea to unwrap as many fire crackers as we could and make a homemade M80. We took a paper funnel and poured as much gunpowder that we could from the unwrapped firecrackers into one of the burned out smoke bombs until we couldn't get anymore in and then we would pack it down with a coat hanger wire and pack in more until it was completely packed full. Dean made a homemade fuse.

We set the old toy bazooka outside on the back patio lit the bomb and dropped it into the bazooka and ran inside. BOOM! It honestly sounded like a stick of dynamite went off. We ran outside to see what it did to the bazooka and it was gone. We both looked at each other with eyes wide and about that time pieces of bazooka started raining all over the back yard. About that time the phone rang and it was Mr. Marstrander (The Swedish Engineer from next door) calling to see if we had heard anything and checking to see if we were OK.

Needless to say we picked up the pieces and Dad never heard about that one until a few years ago.

Dean and I used to have this elaborate slot car track in the basement built on several sheets of plywood. After a while it got old and one day Dean thought it would be cool to set the track on fire while the cars were running around. I mean what could go wrong? After a while the cars started to bog as they ran through the fire as the track started to melt. Then the whole thing started to go up in flames and it went from loads of fun to "HOLY $H!T!" We managed to get it put out but not before Dad found out. I think we both still remember that butt whippin'

Of course we did all the Evel Knievel stuff with bikes and ramps.

The Baptist preacher kid that lived two doors down was a buddy. He had a sloping driveway down to the street. One day we decided to put a ramp at the bottom of his driveway and see if we could jump the whole street. This went on for quite a while building successively bigger and bigger ramps and going faster and faster each time jumping farther and farther. On the left side of the drive way was a bunch of closely spaced pines. On the right side was a bunch of mature rose bushes all around the mailbox. As we did our ramp runs one of us would stay down at the bottom of the drive and watch for oncoming cars and also to judge the distance of the jump on successive turns.

We had almost succeeded in our quest and would soon be the envy of all the neighborhood boys. John Mark was at the top of the hill and anticipation was high for a successful run. He backed up all the way to the retaining wall and started off peddling with all he had. I stood at the bottom shouting "GO! GO! GO!" All of the sudden at the last minute he veered off the drive way and straight into the huge patch of rose bushes and into the mailbox at full speed! I thought the bike broke or something. I took a stick and moved some of the bushes out of the way and got him out of there and he ask, "Where was the car?" I said, "What car?" He said, ""I thought you were yelling 'NO!, NO!, NO!'"

Hahahahaha....

I was thinking about this the other day communing with God and thanking him that despite all the stupid stuff I have done as a kid and a young man that I am still alive, happy and healthy. I am a blessed man.